Drabble Central
by OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles
Summary: A collection of all the drabbles I've written for people to read at their leisure. Fandoms and pairings will vary, and warnings will be placed at the beginning of each story if they apply ex. if it is mature content
1. Wish Not, Want Not

**Drabble Central**

A/N: So I've been writing some drabbles and filling a few prompts on rare occasion on tumblr and I decided that I should probably have a place to collect them all and keep them to make them available for people to read. You may want to follow me on tumblr since I usually post these drabbles on tumblr first as a treat for people who follow me, but if you don't want to follow me or don't have a tumblr, no worries! I'll eventually update this as well. At the moment all the drabbles are Thor/Loki or Arthur/Eames, but the collection may expand with time.

My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

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Prompt: tomhiddlestontheliferuiner answered: Well, definitely more angsty Thorki and Eames/Arthur! And with lots of sexual tension! (;

**Wish Not, Want Not** (Inception - Arthur/Eames)

Eames traced lines of the body he knew so well, and yet didn't know at all. He slipped his fingers through stiff black hair, the gel making curly locks straight and unwelcoming. He ran his fingers over soft skin, following the curve of frowning eyebrows, the sharp angle of a nose, and the rise of cheekbones. He felt no stubble against his skin as he followed the strong jaw, and the lips indented by his thumb were dry but soft.

How he dreamed of this face, Arthur's face. He stared so often, dreamed of it even more often, that he knew every tiny detail. Each freckle, the intricate mix of shades in eyes that would look simply _brown_ only to those who were not looking closely enough. He knew it all, _loved_ it all. It all looked so perfect to Eames, even the imperfections. The frown lines that marred Arthur's face far too frequently, the stiffness of muscles and posture. It was all a part of the man Eames loved, and he cherished it all.

Soft laughter caught his attention, startling Eames until his rickety chair rattled. Eames steadied himself and glanced up to see Ariadne rushing up to him, grinning. "Wow, Eames! You're so talented! If I hadn't been practicing mazes with Arthur then I could have sworn you were him," she praised, entirely unaware of the new tension in the room.

Eames' eyes slid to Arthur's, who stepped up to stand beside Ariadne at a calmer pace. Both of them stood beside the little vanity Eames had set up in a corner of the room. Arthur's gaze was cool, calculating, and not at all amused. Eames allowed his forgery to melt away, and he could see his own reflection in the mirror once again. "You're supposed to be practicing to forge the mark," Arthur accused calmly, though the skin around his mouth was tight. "Not your co-workers."

"The mark is simple," Eames defended. "I'm already prepared for the job. You were the one who dragged us all down into the dream for another training session. I just thought I'd do a bit of extra practice until the timer ran out."

"If you finished early you could have left," Arthur reminded Eames with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that Arthur was uncomfortable with Eames forging him, which made sense. Eames wondered how Arthur would respond if Eames forged Arthur again, mimicked him.

"Perhaps I didn't feel inclined to shooting myself in the head, darling," Eames snapped, already aware of where this was headed. He gave a sigh when he noticed a gun materializing in Arthur's hand. It was always the same.

"Allow me," Arthur said. Eames didn't know how Arthur could always sound so cold when he did this. Eames wanted to close his eyes but he refused to make it that easy on Arthur. Instead he held those brown eyes, now hard and unfriendly and in such contrast to the soft eyes Eames had had reflected back to him from the mirror.

There was a deafening crack and burning, numbing pain, and then Eames jolted awake. The warehouse was quiet, the lawn chairs as uncomfortable as ever. Eames groaned and pressed his hand against his forehead, feeling it throb. _Bastard_, he thought as he forced himself to stand. When he looked back, Arthur and Ariadne remained asleep in their respective chairs.

Eames swallowed a lump in his throat and began packing his bag. Even though they both knew that Eames would not die from the gunshot, it tore at Eames' heart to know that Arthur was so willing to shoot him in the head. There was no hesitance, no remorse at causing Eames pain and casting him out of the dream world. Eames didn't even know why he kept coming back, accepting Arthur's job offers. Except Eames _did_ know, even though he didn't want to admit it. He was in love with the stupid bastard and couldn't bear the thought of Arthur being in danger because Eames had left him unprotected.

Eames sighed and grabbed the spare PASIV device to carry out with his bag. Arthur wasn't likely to comment, but even if he did Eames didn't care. Eames needed some comfort tonight and he knew he would not receive it from Arthur; the gunshot was enough of an indication of that. All Eames had left was a shade, a perfect replication of the man he would always love but could never have.


	2. Worthy

A/N: My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

Prompt: chickadee-chick answered: Thor/Loki (or gen): What would have to happen/under what circumstances would Loki become worthy to wield Mjolnir?

**Worthy**

_Only one may possess the might of Mjolnir at a time_, Odin's voice echoed through Loki's mind again and again, always tugging at his attention. Although Loki knew his father had told Loki to deter him from fighting for the right, the words had given Loki a much more sinister thought. Thor was the current wielder of the mighty hammer, which meant that Loki had no chance to possess it. Unless Thor was out of the picture.

They had fought and Loki had lost. But he had not surrendered. He had merely returned to the background and waited for his chance. Thor seemed to forget about the incident and grow accustomed to wielding Mjolnir, taking for granted his lack of competition. This worked well for Loki's plans and he remained close. Watching, waiting.

Thor had invited Loki to go travelling for a while, exploring new lands and fighting new foes. Loki had agreed readily, wondering if this might finally be his opportunity. Now he wished they had not been so foolish as to choose a dangerous land to explore alone. He also wished he had not wasted the majority of his attention on Thor instead of focusing on their surroundings. They had been ambushed in the middle of the night, the trees doing nothing to protect them from bandits familiar with the land.

Loki was taking out as many enemies as he could with his spear and the few throwing knives he had been able to reach, the rest packed away and now useless. He was just beginning to gain confidence in the outcome of the fight, Loki and Thor always a brilliant fighting duo despite their clashing competitiveness outside dangerous situations. But then Loki heard a shout behind him. "Loki, help!"

Loki spun on his heel. The grass was littered with bodies, grass stained red. Only one bandit remained standing after the last one Loki had cut down, and the bandit was standing over Thor who was hanging off the edge of a cliff. At the time when they had made camp it had seemed like a smart idea to sleep beside the edge of a cliff; enemies would be forced to arrive from only one direction. But now their planning was backfiring.

Without a second thought Loki threw his spear, watching it embed into the bandit's back as it tore through flesh and bone. The bandit gave a grunt and toppled forward, nearly hitting Thor as he fell over the cliff's edge. Loki called his spear back to him before it was lost and he ignored the sensation of warm blood sliding over his fingers when he held the spear in his hand again. "Brother, please!" Thor called out again.

For a split second Loki glanced away from Thor to the torn grass where Mjolnir lay. The hammer would do nothing to aid Thor now; he needed his brother. _Only one_, a voice whispered in Loki's ear. He could let Thor fall. He could. Except... he couldn't. "Hang on!" Loki yelled, running past Mjolnir to Thor's aid without a second glance. He fell to his knees and gripped Thor's hand. His fingers slipped across skin, wet with blood, and Loki gave a terrified gasp to mirror Thor's as he nearly fell. "I said hang on!" Loki snapped, made angry with fear.

Despite Thor's strength, he did not have the proper angle to pull himself up and over the cliff's edge himself. He needed Loki. This time Loki leaned forward and hooked his hands around Thor's arms, hoisting him up with all his strength. He managed to pull Thor up a few inches, just enough for Thor to reach some tiny foothold in the cliff-side and push himself up and over the rest of the way.

Thor landed on top of him and the air was knocked from his lungs, but Loki just wrapped his arms more tightly around Thor and held on. Thor held him back, Loki slowly calming in Thor's embrace. Loki breathed in Thor's scent and remained close, both of them holding each other for a long time. "Never do that again," Loki demanded weakly, his heart still rushing anxiously.

"I promise," Thor whispered. Loki felt lips brush his temple and he hummed contently, letting his eyes drift closed. Eventually the chilled air prompted them to move and they disentangled their limbs. They both looked around at their ruined camp, spoiled by bodies and blood. "Perhaps we should move on," Thor suggested. Loki nodded.

Loki walked back toward their camp to begin packing things up, bypassing Mjolnir to leave for Thor. Except he paused when he heard a confused grunt from Thor behind him, and turned to look. Thor was gripping the hammer's handle tightly, muscles straining as Thor attempted and failed to lift Mjolnir. After a few moments Thor gave up and stepped away with a muttered curse. He sounded betrayed, like a part of him had been taken away.

Hesitantly Loki stepped closer. Thor watched him but did nothing to stop him. Loki leaned down and wound his fingers around Mjolnir's handle, tensed his fingers and pulled. Mjolnir rose from the ground as though it weighed little more than air. Loki held it aloft, looking the mighty hammer over in awe and pride. _I am worthy_. But then Thor caught his eye and Loki looked past the hammer to his brother. Thor looked heartbroken but also proud, accepting. And that was when Loki knew.

Without a word, Loki held Mjolnir out in offering. Thor looked at him questioningly for a long moment, reading Loki's face before extending his hand. Their fingers brushed and locked for a brief moment as Thor took hold of the handle. For a moment they both possessed Mjolnir equally, and then Loki let his fingers drop away. Thor continued holding Mjolnir aloft, the rightful owner.

Loki saw the question in Thor's eyes and stepped forward. Loki sealed their lips together for a brief but confident kiss, and then pulled away. "This is the way it should be," he said. Thor smiled, dropped Mjolnir and used both hands to pull Loki into another kiss.


	3. Paper Crown

A/N: My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

**Paper Crown** (Thor/Loki!children)

It was Thor's birthday and his parents had gotten him a paper crown to wear for his party. Odin had placed the crown on his head like it was real, like it was heavy, and Thor had grinned as everyone cheered and pretended to bow. It was a wonderful party. Now he was seated on the carpet in his and Loki's room; they were allowed to play for another hour before bed time.

Thor finally tugged off his crown after wearing it all day. When it lay flat in his hands, the material flimsy, he noticed that it had started to rip at the back. Suddenly Thor began to feel tears well up and spill over, wetting his cheeks. It had all been so exciting to wear a crown, to feel like he was king. But now he realized it was all so foolish. He would be a terrible king; he couldn't even take care of a fake crown! How could he take care of a real crown, a real city? He couldn't make everyone happy, couldn't protect the universe from bad people.

He sobbed and Loki looked up from his colouring book. Thor sniffled and tried to wipe at his face because he didn't want his brother to see him like this. But it was no use and Thor just cried harder when Loki came over to kneel beside him and pat his knee. "Thor, what's wrong?"

"I ripped my crown," Thor held the material up with trembling fingers. The paper ripped more and Thor threw it to the ground.

He watched through blurry eyes as Loki picked it up and trotted over to his crafts box. When he returned, the material was taped back up. It was a little lopsided since Loki hadn't quite managed to line up the edges, but it drew a wobbly smile to Thor's lips. "Good as new," Loki said as he placed the crown back on Thor's head.

Thor touched a hand to his crown. "I shouldn't even wear it. I'll be a terrible king."

Loki sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around Thor. "Don't say that. You'll be a great king someday."

"I don't know how," Thor sniffled again, though his tears had stopped. Loki always had a way of boosting Thor's confidence when no one else could. Loki's belief in him made Thor want to believe in himself. "I can't do it alone."

"You won't have to," Loki reminded him, leaning over to kiss Thor's cheek. "I'll be king with you."

"Two kings? Is that even allowed?" Thor wrapped his arms around Loki in return and pulled him closer.

Loki shrugged against him. "You'll be king. Doesn't that mean you make the rules? Besides, being king is too much work for one person."

"Yeah," Thor nodded at Loki's wisdom. "You're right. Let's do it together."

Loki rested his head on Thor's shoulder and hummed. "Promise?"

"Promise."


	4. Revealed

A/N: My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

**Revealed **(Thor/Loki)

"Thor, there's something I need to speak to you about," Odin motioned Thor to follow him away from the banquet hall full of people. Thor left gladly; he knew others were celebrating the disappearance of a threat, but it was impossible for Thor to celebrate with them when that threat was his brother. He wondered where Loki was now, if he was dead or lost in some vacuum of space after falling from the Bifrost Bridge.

"What is it?" Thor asked solemnly once they were alone on a balcony overlooking the city. Twilight was Loki's favourite hour. He told Thor once that he liked seeing the last rays of sun fill the horizon while stars began blanketing the darker sky. Thor looked to the sky and saw this, the stars and the sun in one sky for a brief moment. It made him miss Loki terribly, regardless of what happened on Midgard.

"There's something about Loki I feel I should tell you," Odin said gravely, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back. "I fear it will upset you greatly but I do not think it right to hide it from you."

"What is it?" Thor said again, curious but also reluctant. He didn't like how concerned and nervous his father sounded.

Odin remained silent for a moment, staring out across the city. He wasn't looking at Thor when he said, "Loki was of Jotunheim. Loki Laufeyson."

Thor blinked. For a second the information was surprising, but when he thought about it things started to make more sense. It explained why Loki's skin had always been cooler than his, why the cold weather had never affected Loki the way it did others, why Loki was so gifted with magic. Loki Laufeyson. It still sounded wrong to Thor, but only because he still and would always think of Loki as his brother.

Thor shrugged to himself. Regardless of Loki's lineage or name, he _would_ always be Thor's brother.

"So?" he raised an eyebrow, wondering why Odin was telling him this in secret.

Odin was watching him and seemed surprised by Thor's answer. "So? That's all you have to say? Aren't you surprised, angry?"

"I'm surprised," Thor agreed. "And confused. I don't know why I wasn't told earlier. Did Loki know?"

Odin inclined his head slightly. "He found out and confronted me right before I fell into sleep. I fear this knowledge is what drove him to manipulate us all and brought his own demise upon himself."

"Don't blame him," Thor shot back quickly, feeling anger fill him with heat. "I would be upset too. I _am_ upset!" he corrected. "Why didn't you tell us, or at least him?"

"What did it matter?" Odin retorted. "I saved him, I brought him home. You sound just like him; so ungrateful. I did what I thought was best; he would have died if I left him."

"He still deserved to know," Thor argued, shaking his head. He thought back to his fight with his brother; how much pain must have been driving Loki's attacks? Finally Thor understood everything. "His lineage is nothing to be ashamed of," Thor said resolutely. "He is still my brother."

"Was," Odin corrected, but he sounded tired now, and sad. Despite everything, despite all his mistakes, Thor knew that Odin had thought he was doing what was best.

"_Is_," Thor emphasized, voice serious and low. "I will find him wherever he ended up and I will not rest until he knows he is loved."

Odin considered him seriously. It was night time now; the sun had faded and the stars shone above. Odin nodded, though Thor didn't know exactly what Odin was thinking. "Will you come back in?" Odin eventually said, taking a step back toward the banquet hall.

Thor shook his head. "No. I want to be alone."

Odin left him and Thor left the palace to step onto the Bifrost Bridge. He walked right to the splintered edge and sat down, watching the darkness of space swirl below him. "Loki?" he called softly. He knew it made no sense to speak quietly when Loki was likely so far away; but yelling didn't seem to make any more sense. He had no idea where Loki was and he felt a little silly, but Thor hoped Loki could hear him.

"I just found out that you're of Jotunn heritage," he told the darkness, willing his words to his brother's ear. "I want you to know that I don't care. You're still my brother, and I still love you." He took a deep breath and paused for a moment, thinking. He was still mostly sure he was talking to himself so he didn't feel very rushed. "I just wish I had known sooner," he said. "I wish I could have seen your true form. I bet your blue skin was beautiful." Thor smiled. "Your eyes would have been interesting as well; though I suspect you would have used them for mischief since no one would expect to see red eyes around the city."

Thor laughed and then grew sad again. "I miss you, brother. Twilight just passed and I thought of you." He looked to the stars for a long time, thinking but not speaking. Eventually he grew chilled and stood to head back inside. He thought of leaving without saying anything else but he felt an insistent tug at his heart, like Loki might be out there, desperate to hear more. "I'm going to find you some day," Thor promised. "You need to make sure you stay alive no matter what, because I want to see the real you. Promise?" he asked the air.

He didn't get a response, but the tightness in his chest faded. Thor smiled and headed back to the palace.


	5. Salvation

Follow me on tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

**Salvation** (Inception, Arthur/Eames)

Inspired by this gorgeous artwork: sailingonthewind(dot-deviantart-dot-com)/gallery/#/d4ygvvx

"The dream is always the same," Eames said. Arthur reached over and gripped his hand, perhaps too tightly but still comforting. "I hit the water and I'm dazed and I can't find out which way is up. It gets darker as I sink and I give up. Then water fills my lungs."

Arthur brushed his thumb over the back of Eames' hand, drawing his gaze. "I'll be there this time," he promised. Eames gave a nervous smile and nodded. Then they slid the needle under their skin, feeling it pinch flesh, and then they drifted down into Eames' dream.

The sickening twist that always accompanied a fall filled their stomachs a second before they hit water hard enough for it to hurt, for their skin to sting on impact. Arthur tumbled under the waves for a few seconds, dazed from hitting the water hard, but able to shake it off quickly since Eames had warned him about the impact. He blinked his eyes open, finding that he was already facing the surface, the sun twinkling above the waves.

He pushed himself to the surface quickly and took a gasp of air, filling his lungs before diving back down. This wasn't Eames' first time dealing with this reoccurring nightmare, but Arthur was hoping it would be his last. He spotted Eames quickly and would have rolled his eyes at the man; with his eyes closed then of course he couldn't figure out which way was up. But Arthur knew that dreams occasionally had control over you.

Arthur swam down, abandoning the surface to pursue Eames. He reached him quickly and grabbed his hands, tugging upward. Eames wrapped an arm around Arthur to hold him close but otherwise didn't respond. His face was turned up to Arthur and the sky but he didn't open his eyes, didn't fight as he drifted down into darkness.

Desperate, Arthur held Eames close in return and pressed his lips to Eames'. Then he blew all the air he had left in his lungs into Eames' mouth, trying to revive him. Eames wasn't dead yet, but his fight was gone. He felt Eames jump at the air and kiss him back greedily for a second, their lips sealed tight together, sharing life. Then Eames' eyes flashed open, taking Arthur in and the surface above.

They parted unwillingly and began swimming toward the surface. Arthur's lungs were burning but he saw Eames beside him, fighting to survive and to overcome this dream, and that gave him the motivation to keep pushing.

The dream ended as they broke the surface and dragged air into their lungs.


	6. Happy Birthday

Follow me on tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

Written as a birthday present for my friend, lorichelle213

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**Happy** **Birthday** (Inception, Arthur/Eames)

Arthur went into work expecting to leave with a headache. Based on the research he did for every co-worker he ever encountered, Arthur knew that it was Eames' birthday. His thirtieth, to be exact. Arthur never paid much attention to that sort of thing but he knew someone's thirtieth birthday was supposed to be special. Therefore, he was expecting a very loud and unproductive day at the warehouse.

It wasn't that he was against celebrating or letting Eames enjoy his day. It was just that their mark was flying out of the country in three days and if they didn't grab the lowly businessman-turned-millionaire in his hotel outside the airport then he would be difficult to track down again. And if they missed their mark then they would definitely have no chance of completing their job on time.

Arthur told himself that a little celebration wouldn't hurt. They already had everyone's schedules planned out, details re-checked, documents forged. Ariadne had the dreamscape designed and beautiful, and Cobb had spent the last two days going over all the research Arthur had pulled, ensuring he knew everything there was to know about their mark. Arthur himself only had so much more work he could do in advance, and Eames merely had to practice a simple forgery and brush up on his rusty French.

As he walked towards the warehouse, collar turned up against the heavy downpour, Arthur told himself again that one day of celebration wouldn't hinder them. In fact, it might even help everyone relax and make them perform better. So Arthur pocketed a small bottle of painkillers, made sure he had some money in his wallet, cast aside any work expectations for the day, and stepped into the warehouse.

He was shocked when he found the interior of the warehouse so silent that he could hear the rain pattering against the windows. Ariadne and Eames were both asleep, hooked up to the PASIV, and Dom was skimming through the files Arthur had left on his desk. Dom looked up and gave him an acknowledging wave before dropping his gaze back down to the documents.

Arthur walked over to his desk and dropped his bag, taking a moment to shake the rain from his coat before hanging it up. He wondered if everyone had already said their birthday wishes, celebrated with Eames for a few excitable moments, and then switched back to work mode. Arthur didn't exactly feel _disappointed_ that he missed out on the festivities – he hadn't bought a gift and he didn't know what to say anyway. But he hoped the others hadn't cut the celebration short because they thought he would disapprove.

He was happy that everything seemed to be sorted though, the celebrating acknowledged and passed and everyone back to work. Arthur had been trying to figure out what he should say to Eames since 'happy birthday' didn't seem like enough after all they had been through; 'happy birthday' was for acquaintances and friends, not for those who watched your back as you watched theirs on every job. He hadn't been able to come up with anything more suitable and it had made him nervous, so now he felt more at ease.

The Point Man let himself slip into his work as time passed, pulling up more information on the mark and confirming that hotel and flight plans were still unchanged. He glanced over when he heard the PASIV timer, sending Eames a small smile that he hoped would convey the fact that he wished Eames well even if he had missed the celebrations. He would have said more but Ariadne trotted over then with her sketchpad, asking him for a few final suggestions on the dream.

The day passed quickly and when no one made any suggestion about lunch, Arthur opted to grab something to treat everyone. He placed the food on the centre desk when he returned but frowned in confusion when everyone grabbed their orders and returned to their respective desks. Arthur was all for being productive and focused but it was Eames' birthday and it seemed a bit rude to leave the man eating alone.

A little uncertain but determined, Arthur took his box of food and sat down beside Eames, who was twirling a small pocket mirror around on the desk top while munching on his food with little interest. Eames glanced up at him with obvious surprise when Arthur sat down, but turned back to the mirror after a moment. Arthur could already see the beginning spider-webbing crack across the reflective surface from the abuse.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice quiet. He wasn't exactly hiding anything from the others, but he felt a little silly asking.

Eames sighed, letting the mirror clatter to the desk and fall still. Arthur watched him pick up his food with both hands and eat with a little more vigour. "I dislike the rain," Eames informed him, looking past Arthur to the windows and dark skies beyond.

"An Englishman who hates rain," Arthur raised an eyebrow, munching on his food slowly.

"Why do you think I moved to Mombasa?" Eames sent him a small smirk, though Arthur could see the corners of his mouth being weighed down again.

Arthur gave a weak smile in return and fidgeted with his fork. "So... do you have any plans for tonight?" he asked awkwardly, feeling very out of his comfort zone. Eames' head snapped up as he quirked an eyebrow up. Arthur cleared his throat, feeling even more self-conscious now. "You know, for your birthday." Eames was blinking at him silently, not uttering a sound, which made Arthur feel even more uncomfortable and put on the spot. "Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry I missed the celebrating earlier."

"What celebrating?" Eames asked, confused and dull.

Arthur's heart clenched in his chest. "Didn't the others...?" he began to ask but trailed off, already reading the answer in Eames' face. Eames was a master at hiding his feelings in dreams, but this was reality and Arthur had been around him long enough to recognize the way his face lengthened with disappointment. "They forgot," he answered himself, voice hushed.

Eames gave a shrug that wasn't as nonchalant as he probably intended. "I don't blame them," Eames said, voice quiet to keep it from carrying. "They weren't the ones I was expecting to remember." Arthur gave him an expectant look, knowing it wasn't his place but curious anyway. "Just a few living relatives and very old friends," Eames offered, though he didn't seem to have the energy to elaborate. "It's not likely I could have them over for dinner or anything, but a call would have been nice."

Arthur watched Eames attempt another smile and then let it crumble. They both picked at their food for a few moments in silence, appetite gone. Arthur felt a heavy ache in his heart as he watched Eames attempt to hide his lonely disappointment, though he couldn't help but remember the genuine smile that briefly emerged when Arthur made an effort to come over and talk to Eames.

No one would ever say that Arthur had much skill when it came to social interaction or celebration planning, but Arthur knew that he wanted to do whatever he could to make Eames' day a special one. "Let me take you out tonight," he requested, trying to keep his nerves out of his voice. He was aware of how out of character this was for him and could only imagine what Eames was thinking, but it all seemed worth it when Eames nodded and gave him a grin that could outshine the sun.

#

"Make a wish," Arthur told Eames as he set the two cupcakes down, one with a single lit candle shoved through the icing. When he had asked Eames where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to do, he had been expecting the man to request a bar or some other form of nightlife. Instead, Eames had requested a quiet dinner out and then dragged Arthur into a hole-in-the-wall bakery they passed on their way back to the hotel.

Eames had picked out the cupcake he wanted and insisted that Arthur get a matching one. The Forger was looking his over, watching the flame flicker with his breath. Arthur recognized that familiar look of concentration and smiled at knowing Eames was thinking about his wish so seriously. There were certain childlike qualities Eames possessed – never-ending curiosity and excitement – that Arthur found endearing. Eames took a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Arthur's as he blew out the candle. "I wish you would kiss me."

Arthur choked on nothing at his surprise. "You're not supposed to say your wish aloud," Arthur croaked, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing. He knew his cheeks were red; he could feel it.

"I guess I'll take my chances," Eames smiled at him, a look of understanding in his eyes. He looked nervous with his own boldness but it was clear that he wasn't going to pressure Arthur.

This somehow made Arthur feel more confident and, before he could lose his nerve, he leaned over and kissed Eames on the cheek. He sat back hurriedly and began picking at the sprinkles on his own cupcake. "For good luck," he explained softly.

Eames was silent and Arthur felt his stomach twisting with nerves. He snuck a glance at the Forger and couldn't stop his smile when he noticed Eames staring at his cupcake with a dazed, blissful smile on his lips. Eames looked up and their eyes locked. "I'll take it," Eames beamed at him. "Thank you for making my birthday."

"Anytime," Arthur smiled in return and together they bit into their respective cupcakes.


	7. At the Fountain

**tumblr: ****onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)**

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**At the Fountain** (Thor/Loki)

A/N: I have no excuse for this. I don't even know what it is. The mental image just popped into my head the first time I heard "Call Me Maybe" (again, I don't know why) and it wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. New story will be posted soon, but for now enjoy this drabble :)

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Thor tugged at the fabric of his tie, agitated that they were being forced to wear their school uniform even though they were on a school trip _in Italy_. The teachers insisted that the colours of their outfits – red and gold – would help them keep track of all their students on the trip since there were many other schools taking tours at the same monuments. It seemed like a pretty weak excuse to Thor, especially as the sun climbed high and the air grew heavy with heat, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

He and the group of twenty other students from his school were all crowded around one part of the Trevi Fountain. Some were taking picture after picture while others giggled and threw coins into the fountain while clenching their eyes closed, silently reciting wishes. Thor looked down at the water, seeing the landscape of coins under the shifting ripples, sun setting the coins alight. So many people, so many wishes. Thor thumbed a coin between his fingers, wondering what he should wish for.

_I want an adventure_, he thought to himself. _Or a surprise. Something I'm not prepared for_.

With the words spoken in his head, words etched into his memory, he flipped the coin into the water. He watched the coin plop into the fountain, sinking with erratic sweeps through the currents to the bottom. Then he lifted his eyes and across the way on the other side of the fountain he saw what he thought might be his wish come true.

There was another boy on the opposite side of the fountain, eyes clenched closed and coin held tightly between two fingers. He was clearly concentrating diligently on his wish. He looked to be around Thor's age, at the end of his high school career, but that was where the similarities ended. The boy had black hair to Thor's blond, milky skin to Thor's tan, agility to Thor's strength. The stranger also seemed to be dressed in his school uniform, crest on his left breast and tie of black and green wound loosely around his neck.

Before Thor realized what he was doing, he had begun walking along the edge of the fountain. He bumped shoulders with a few people blindly, eyes on the boy still making his wish lest he disappear in the crowd. The teachers had told Thor and the other students that they were allowed to explore the small square with the fountain and a few blocks in each direction to look at the shops that were set up. Thor had a few more minutes but his goal wasn't the gelato shop most of his friends had disappeared to.

Thor was halfway around the fountain when the mystery boy blinked his eyes open and tossed the coin and his wish into the fountain. The sun reflecting off the water caught the bright green of those eyes and Thor knew he was staring but he couldn't stop, even when those eyes flickered over to him and widened. Thor felt his cheeks heat up at getting caught staring but instead of looking away or at least looking apologetic, he felt a huge smile curling his lips.

The black-haired boy glanced around for a moment, clearly trying to determine if Thor was really smiling at him. And then, seeming to realize that no one else was around him, the boy looked back to Thor. Green eyes scanned him critically, possibly reading for threats after all the talks tourists got about pickpockets and the like. Thor tried to look as innocent as possible, fidgeting with the end of his wrinkled tie and smiling like a moron.

Finally the suspicion slipped away and was replaced by a slightly confused but still welcoming smile. Thor smiled wider and trailed around the rest of the fountain. When he was standing directly in front of the stranger that had caught his eye he could see that those green eyes barely had to look up to meet Thor's own blue ones. This was not an easy feat since the majority of Thor's friends were only tall enough to stare at his jaw.

Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering what he was supposed to do now, what he had been expecting to happen, Thor extended a hand. Green slid down, considered, and then rose again. Thor felt a cool, smooth hand slip into his grasp and Thor wound his larger, warm fingers around the offered hand. They shook once, twice, three times, and then their eyes met. They both laughed lightly at the awkwardness and their hands broke apart, though Thor noted that his skin was tingling.

"I'm Thor," he said quickly, nearly tripping over his words at his eagerness to say _something_, to keep this encounter going.

A black eyebrow rose and then narrow lips quirked up a little more. "Loki. It's a pleasure."

"Loki," Thor said the name, liking the way it sounded. He beamed wider. "Yes, it is a pleasure," he agreed, and then fell silent. Thor and Loki stared at each other in silence until it grew awkward again. Everyone else was chattering around them but Thor felt oddly separate from the rest of the world at that moment. His eyes scanned the area as he tried to think of something to say, still wondering why he had come over in the first place. He remembered his wish he looked to the fountain and then back at Loki. "So what did you wish for?"

"I'm not telling you," Loki said with a huff, though Thor could hear a lilt of teasing in that voice. "Then it won't come true."

"Fair enough," Thor tugged at his tie again, wondering if he could blame the sun for how warm he suddenly felt. "So..." he cleared his throat, staring at his feet. He cleared his throat again, growing more embarrassed as the silence dragged on. Every topic of conversation that came to mind sounded too stupid. Thor wasn't one to get nervous, or to stumble over his words. He loved talking to anyone about anything, charismatic and friendly, so he had no idea why he was tripping over his thoughts like a fool. "Sucks that we have to wear ties in this heat, right?" he asked, gave a nervous bark of laughter and then winced.

"Was there a point to this?" Loki questioned him. He sounded very bored, but when Thor looked up from his shoes he saw Loki fingering his tie with a playful smile.

Thor could feel the heat of his red cheeks but his smile began to creep back into his lips. "I don't know," Thor said honestly, shrugging. He grew more confident when Loki remained attentive and smiling even though Thor was basically wasting his time and making himself look like an idiot. "I wished for an adventure, or a surprise, and then I saw you... What?" he asked in confusion when he saw Loki's eyes widen slightly.

Loki lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking unsure but not necessarily unhappy. "That's what I wished for too."

"Really?" Thor gaped, his heart stumbling over its own pace. "No wonder I felt drawn to you!" He mused, grin returning.

Loki met his gaze and his smile turned very soft and warm. "How do you feel about raspberry gelato?"

"My favourite," Thor admitted, curious now.

Loki's smile grew, and then Thor's heart fluttered when he felt Loki's hand reach to hold Thor's. "Good," Loki said, tugging playfully as he began leading Thor through the throng of people toward the gelato shop on the corner. Thor laughed and followed Loki, not needing to be dragged. "Mine too."


	8. Arthur and Eames' Perfect Date

A/N: Got a Tumblr message asking me what I thought Arthur and Eames' perfect date would be like, so I answered with a story.

This story is inspired by this drawing: sailingonthewind(dot-deviantart-dot-com)/gallery/#/d4yfwaj

* * *

**Arthur and Eames' Perfect Date**

When Eames walked up to Arthur with a picnic basket in hand, Arthur gave him a disbelieving look and turned back to his laptop. "A picnic?" he scoffed. "Really?"

"You said I got to choose the date this time," Eames reminded, setting the basket down on the desk beside Arthur's keyboard.

"But a picnic?" Arthur said again, not even bothering to turn from his keyboard this time.

Eames leaned against the desk and caught one of Arthur's hands with his own, forcing Arthur to stop typing and look up at him. "I think it'll be good for us. When was the last time we slowed down and enjoyed a day for the sake of it?"

"We are slowed down," Arthur argued, though he didn't pull his hand away from Eames' grasp. "We haven't taken a job in three weeks."

"And you've spent nearly every waking hour of those three weeks tracking that detective trying to tear apart the whole dream work industry," Eames shot back, giving a pointed look to Arthur's laptop. "Leave him to chase his tail, darling. And come enjoy the sun with me."

For a moment Arthur hesitated, but then he saw Eames' hopeful look. Arthur saved his work and shut down his computer, deciding that an afternoon off really couldn't hurt anything. Especially when it brought a smile to Eames' face that never failed to give Arthur butterflies. "Alright, but I'm holding you responsible for the quality of this date."

"Trust me," Eames said as he brought Arthur's hand to his lips, kissing the skin affectionately. "I won't disappoint."

Arthur gave a tiny smile and then detached himself from Eames, heading to the bedroom to get dressed. It was a hot summer day outside, clouds only skirting the horizon, so Arthur was forced to dress down into a loose-fitted shirt and jeans. Eames had already been dressed when he dragged Arthur from the computer, a tunic and khaki pants hanging lightly on his body as he waited by the front door. Eames mentioned that Arthur might want shorts instead and Arthur insisted he was fine, so they left the house without further comment.

Since Eames was in charge of this date, Arthur allowed him to lead and didn't comment when Eames led him to the car. They drove halfway across town and Arthur's curiosity was growing, but he forced himself to remain quiet. When he finally saw where Eames had brought them, Arthur couldn't help but raise his eyebrows slightly in surprise. Eames must have done some research on parks in the area because Arthur hadn't even known this existed, which seemed foolish since it was massive.

Arthur couldn't even believe the park was so close to the city with its size, fields of green grass stretching for miles. Arthur let Eames hold his hand as they walked down one of the paths half-hidden by grass, Eames carrying the picnic basket with his other hand. The sun was hot as it shone overhead but there was a cool breeze whispering through the blades of grass, keeping the temperature comfortable.

Finally they found a suitable patch of grass to themselves, a reasonable distance away from the other family picnics and kids they passed on their walk. They settled down on the grass, Arthur subtly rolling up his pant legs to avoid Eames' 'I told you so' look. Arthur pulled the picnic basket toward them and opened it up, realizing how hungry he was after spending the morning at his computer. Eames had packed all of Arthur's favourite foods and Arthur's mood rose considerably as he ate.

Once they were finished, Eames pushed the basket aside and lay down on his back on the grass. Arthur sat cross-legged by his hip, looking down at Eames expectantly. "Now what?"

Eames opened one eye to look at Arthur, squinting against the sun. "What do you mean?"

Arthur fidgeted with the rolled-up cuff of his pants. "I feel like we should be doing something."

"Arthur," Eames smiled affectionately. "You need to learn that you don't always have to be doing something. Sometimes you can just lie down and relax and not have to think about being productive."

"But I could be at home tracking that detective now though, so I could take a break later," Arthur pressed, aware of time ticking by even though Eames had forced him to leave his watch in the car.

"That's my point though," Eames laced his fingers with Arthur's. "You never take that break. I want you to take it with me now. We'll work more later, I promise."

Arthur considered arguing more but as he watched Eames' face he could see how much Eames wanted this, wanted to spend time with him without thinking about time or work or deadlines. And Arthur realized that Eames was right; Arthur did often forget to take the break he always promised himself, and it meant disappointing Eames as well. He knew Eames understood, but it was about time Arthur fulfilled his promise.

Aware of the fact that there were kids nearby, Arthur lay down carefully against Eames and caught his lips softly. Eames immediately smiled into the kiss and pulled Arthur closer, eager but undemanding. They kissed for a few minutes and Arthur realized how much he had missed this – how much he had been giving up to slave over his laptop. He reminded himself to make full amends when they were no longer in public.

Eventually Arthur had to pull away before they got too interested, Eames already moving his hands along Arthur's hips in the most appealing way. Eames gave a groan but released his hold on Arthur, likely understanding why they had to stop. Not wanting to stray too far though, Arthur lay down on his back with his head resting on Eames' stomach. Eames caught Arthur's hand and laced their fingers together, their joined hands resting on the grass.

It was hot in the sun but the breeze tugged at Arthur's clothes, keeping him cool and comfortable. The feel of his head rising and falling with Eames' even breathing was calming, lulling Arthur into a content doze. At one point Arthur felt eyes on him and tilted his head slightly to meet Eames' gaze. "Is this okay, darling?" Eames asked a little shyly.

Arthur smiled and pulled their twined hands up to kiss the back of Eames' hand, reminiscent of earlier that day. "More than okay," he promised and then let their hands return to the grass. Their eyes held for another minute longer and then Arthur let his eyes drift closed, the sun and Eames' breathing drawing him down into a relaxing afternoon snooze.

* * *

A/N: I also got two other messages asking me what I thought Arthur and Eames' favourite sex position would be, and Bane and Blake's favourite position. However, I can't post those two stories on FFnet because they're 'inappropriate' and I don't want to get more of my stories reported and deleted without notice. So you can read those two stories on my Tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

Or on my AO3 account: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/466325


	9. Arthur and Eames' First Meeting

**Tumblr**: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

**Fic Prompt**: "How did Arthur and Eames first meet each other? What were their first impressions of each other?"

* * *

"Alright everyone," the teacher's voice boomed in the small room, immediately quieting the students' chatter. "You have all completed your individual assessments to determine your aptitudes and what dreaming role you would be best suited for." Everyone nodded, Arthur remembering the many questionnaires he had been forced to fill out, and the three hours he had spent in a dream with a professional dreamer.

Without pause, the teacher continued. "Now's the time to get some practice dreaming with a partner. We have paired you based on compatibility and matched you with dreamers of different roles," he explained. Arthur glanced down at the sheet he had been handed to search for his name while the teacher continued to speak. "You're with different dreamers because beyond training you can't complete a mission with one type of dreamer alone. You need to learn to work together."

The teacher continued to give instructions, explaining that each pair had been numbered off and they should come to the front of the class in that order. There were only twenty people in this specialized class; ten pairs. The majority looked to be around Arthur's age of twenty but with a few older soldiers intermixed. Arthur hoped he got someone older, knowing they would probably be more professional about the whole exercise.

He skimmed his eyes down the page as the teacher called number one, and found himself as pair number nine.

_Arthur Tilmont – Architect_

_Jonathan Eames – Forger_

As number two was called, Arthur raised an eyebrow. What was a Forger? He did a quick skim of the rest of the page and realized that his partner was the only 'Forger' on the list. Based on the name Arthur could make a guess, that his partner would forge something, but what would he forge? And what would the purpose be? Arthur glanced around at the people standing around him but there was no way of knowing who his partner was yet.

Finally his number was called and Arthur stepped to the front of the room, casting his eyes around curiously. He was surprised and a little disappointed to see that his partner was a man only a few years older than him, uniform out of place and hair scruffy. This man didn't look to be the sort of person Arthur would get along with, and now Arthur was more nervous than intrigued about what a Forger was.

Everyone was paired off and found a station to set up at. Only the very best had been invited into this classroom; twenty total because there were only ten dream devices to go around. The technology was still new and very expensive so they only offered it to those with the most promise. Arthur had sort of dropped his gaze and ignored his partner as he was handed a device and walked over to a pair of cots in the corner, but he couldn't escape when his partner followed him and sat down opposite him.

"So you're Arthur," his partner said, sounding a little awed and excited. He extended a hand across the small table between them where Arthur had set down the dream device. "I know professors aren't supposed to talk about their students but I heard them and they say you're amazing."

Arthur fought down his blush, accepting the hand briefly before busying himself with setting up the device. He hadn't known the professors thought he was anything special beyond being skilled enough to get invited into this class. "And you're Jonathan?" he said simply, feeling it would be rude to say he had never heard about the soldier before.

"Eames, darling, please," he corrected with a bright smile, watching Arthur's hands move precisely as he set up the device and timer based on their given instructions. "You're very stiff and meticulous, aren't you? I feel like I'm watching a surgeon perform heart surgery here."

Arthur choked on a breath and refused to look up; he couldn't quite tell if Eames was mocking him or not but Arthur had experienced that often enough to no longer find it amusing. "Someone has to be professional and make sure things are done right," he defended snippily.

"Oh I agree," Eames said quickly. "I meant no personal offense. I was just thinking that I would feel very comfortable working with you in the future because I'd know for sure you had covered every base," his voice was warm.

Arthur was finding it difficult to figure out how he was supposed to react to that. To avoid the conversation he held out a lead to Eames, the device set up and all the other pairs getting ready to go under. "Here."

Eames hesitated, smile turning nervous. "Actually, would you mind doing it for me?" Arthur raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm horribly scared of needles," Eames explained, notably embarrassed now. "I can't look to do my own."

"How do you expect to do dream work in the future?" Arthur sighed as he stood up from his own cot to sit on the edge of Eames', his partner lying down fully and shifting over a bit to leave room for Arthur.

"Maybe I could just keep you around," Eames laughed weakly, face gone a little pale at seeing the needle between Arthur's fingers. But Eames still pushed up his sleeve and offered his wrist up to Arthur trustingly, though his eyes were clenched closed. "I'm trusting you," Eames said, voice strained.

"Just relax," Arthur grumbled, cradling Eames' wrist in his palm. Eames did calm slightly as Arthur held his wrist, warm skin pressed together. Then Arthur slowly slipped the needle under skin, getting the vein on his first try. "There," he breathed as he carefully set Eames' wrist down on the cot, reaching for some hand sanitizer to clean his hands before lying on his own cot to slip his own needle in.

Eames blinked his eyes opened and looked over at him as Arthur slid his own needle home, looking a little surprised. "I didn't even feel that."

"Surgeon's hands," Arthur tried to joke, confused about why it made him feel so pleased that Eames seemed calmer and not in any pain.

"I'm definitely keeping you," Eames said strongly, but Arthur didn't say anything in return as the teacher called for everyone to start their devices and Arthur's consciousness drifted into darkness.

When Arthur blinked his eyes open he was standing in the middle of Trafalgar Square, London, England. Eames was standing beside him, their shoulders brushing slightly as large crowds of projections wandered around them, going about their day. Arthur knew he had only done the architecture so Eames had brought life to this dream, and he was impressed by how lifelike and smooth the projections were.

Eames was looking around him with wide eyes. "Have you ever been to London?" he asked Arthur after a few seconds, sounding awed.

"No," Arthur admitted, warming slightly at Eames' obvious approval. "But I knew I was going to have to do more dreaming soon so I did research on some locations I thought would be good practice to recreate."

Eames whistled, taking another glance around the square before pinning Arthur with his gaze. "I know they labelled you an architect, and I can see why," Eames began. "But I think they're missing out on your full potential."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You should be a Point Man or something," Eames said, continuing when he saw that Arthur was still confused. "You know, someone who does all the research before a job and runs point for an entire operation."

"I'm not much of a leader, Eames," Arthur admitted, huffing in embarrassment at his partner's praise.

"The best leaders are the ones who don't need to display their control," Eames retaliated. "They plan ahead and remain aware to keep everyone on the mission safe while trusting their teammates to do their job well."

"High praise for someone you've just met," Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, looking away to watch the many projections walk past. There was a little boy trying to climb onto the base of Nelson's column, eyes wide as he looked up at the massive lions carved at the base.

Eames shrugged, sounding a little shy now. "You impressed me." They were both silent for a long moment. "Just keep it in mind."

Arthur nodded without saying anything, not trusting his voice. "Well now it's your turn. What exactly is forging? You were the only one on the class list."

"Yeah..." Eames trailed off, laughing nervously. "I was surprised by that actually. I figured anyone with a bit of acting background would be like me. Guess not."

"So what is it?" Arthur asked, a little impatient now. He spun on his heel to look at Eames, having been previously avoiding Eames' gaze while he got his embarrassment under control. His breath caught when he found a near-exact replica of himself standing behind him. His replica smiled, similar to the small tight smile he had offered Eames when they first met at the front of the classroom. "Eames..?"

"Sorry, I know this breaks every moral code," his replica said in return. The image of Arthur was almost perfect, right down to the hair and eyes and neatly tucked uniform; all that Eames had missed was a few freckles across Arthur's face that he knew would take more observation to pick up on. The voice still required a bit more work though. The British accent had been turned in for an American one, and Eames had adopted Arthur's general style of speech. But there were a few words Arthur knew he spoke differently from Eames that his partner wouldn't have heard in their brief conversation. "I just find this is the best way to show off my skills."

"You only saw me for ten minutes tops," Arthur said, still shocked. "And heard me talking for an even shorter amount of time. How could you possibly mimic me so well?"

His replica shrugged one shoulder, nearly breaking the realism for Arthur until Eames spoke again; just hearing Arthur speak a few more words had helped Eames tighten the forgery of his voice slightly. "I like to observe people, I suppose. I can't exactly explain it. I'm not normally this quick though, truthfully," Eames confessed. "But you were intriguing."

Arthur blushed fully this time. "It's a little unnerving talking to myself though. Can you mimic anyone else?"

"_Forge_, darling," Eames corrected with a smile as he returned to his own form. "And I can forge anyone, technically. I just need to study them long enough. Some are easier than others though. The few times I've tried forging a woman I've needed to use a mirror to get the appearance right. Mirrors always help for a faster transformation, actually."

Arthur continued to watch with wide eyes as Eames plucked a small hand mirror from his pocket and stared at it hard. From one blink to the next Arthur was now standing in front of a drill sergeant he had seen on the grounds. The students called her Mean Mary, and Eames had captured her sharp nose and stiff posture perfectly. "That's..." he trailed off, surprised and impressed that his scruffy partner who was terrified of needles had such a gift. "That's incredible," he eventually breathed.

Eames returned to his own form, fidgeting shyly and smiling. "Thanks."

Before they could say any more, the dream began to collapse around them. Arthur actually felt a little disappointed when he woke up on the cot and glanced over at Eames on the other cot, finding his partner blinking back at him with an eager smile. The teacher began speaking again and Arthur forced himself to sit up and listen. "I know that was a short first run but you'll be partnered together for the duration of this class. Over time we'll pair your pairs together to create larger groups so you can work with even more roles. If there were any problems, please speak with me after class once you're done cleaning up the device."

Everyone began cleaning and packing up. Arthur stretched on the cot and then stood to sit on the edge of Eames', plucking the needle from his arm without needing to be asked. Then he busied himself with cleaning up the device and packing it away before cleaning his own hands again. It was only when he was finished that he risked meeting Eames' gaze again. His breath caught in surprise when he found Eames still watching him, intrigued.

"Well this was an interesting first exercise," Arthur offered uncertainly.

Eames seemed to blink and return to reality, eyes clearing as they focused on Arthur. "Yes, it was a pleasure. I'm really looking forward to class tomorrow," Eames said with a grin.

Arthur couldn't stop the small smile that tugged his own lips upward at the thought. He wanted to see more of Eames' abilities, and he also wanted to do more research – both architecture-wise and maybe some other forms of research – to show off to his partner. "Yes," he nodded. "Me too."


	10. Thanksgiving

Written for a holiday mini-bang on aeholidaybang(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

The prompt: _Arthur and Eames are having their first Thanksgiving gathering that both sides of their families are attending.  
_

* * *

"Was it entirely necessary for your mother to bring an _entire_ turkey?" Arthur huffed, setting down the heavy pan Eames' mother had just shoved into his hands. "Didn't you tell her we were already preparing a turkey?"

"I did," Eames chuckled, standing behind Arthur and resting his hands on Arthur's hips. "She wouldn't listen."

"But I can cook!" Arthur grumbled defensively.

"You forget that _I_ can't," Eames kissed where Arthur's neck met his shoulder. "She's used to preparing food before I get a chance to set something on fire."

"We're going to have so much leftover," Arthur sighed, looking over the counter full of food. Many of the dishes were family recipes from either Arthur's side or Eames'. And now they had _two_ turkeys.

"It's okay," Eames told him. "Your family could use some fattening up."

Arthur sent a silencing glare over his shoulder. "We're just naturally thin."

"I'm only teasing," Eames soothed. Arthur allowed Eames to turn him, back against the counter as their lips met briefly. He sighed contently when they pulled apart. "I'm very glad to have your family here."

"Same," Arthur smiled. "Speaking of," he glanced to the doorframe that led to the living room. "Should we go make sure they're getting along?"

"Probably smart," Eames laughed. "My family needs constant supervision."

They moved to the living room together, a small part of them expecting to walk in on disaster. Arthur knew his family to be rather aloof and proper when meeting new people and Eames had readily described his family as 'a loud ball of excitement'. It hadn't sounded promising. But everyone was still alive, at least, when Arthur and Eames stepped into the room.

Eames' parents were loudly describing the night they had gotten drunk and nearly lost on their cruise in Mexico, Arthur's parents looking a little shocked but still nodding and listening. At the same time Eames' two younger brothers were crowding in around Arthur's younger sister, who was trying and failing to hold in a laugh. It reminded Arthur of Eames' attempts to woo him and it made him smile.

"It makes you thankful, doesn't it?" Arthur spoke softly, both of them unnoticed in the doorframe as the families interacted.

"I'm just thankful there's no blood to clean up," Eames joked.

Arthur elbowed him in the side, though he was smiling. In response, Eames pulled him in for another soft kiss.


End file.
